Voldemort's Evil Twin
by Semika
Summary: Voldemort finally succeeds in capturing Harry. He is naturally delighted, but soon realises that the real problem he has is deciding what to do with him. And so, he decides to get creative. My version of perhaps the worst sort of torture he could have come up with.


_**Voldemort's Evil Twin**_

I claim temporary insanity brought on by illness, sleepiness, Sweet November and lots of cookie dough. You try it and see if you come out the other side with any sense of normalcy. As it is, that is the only way I can explain the existence of this fic. Enjoy, I guess.

**Warning:** This story is liable to make you blink and say "huh?" but apart from that it should leave you basically unscathed.

**Summary:** Voldemort finally succeeds in capturing Harry. He is naturally delighted, but soon realises that the real problem he has is deciding what to do with him. My version of perhaps the worst sort of torture he could have come up with.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter and co. the Death Eaters would wear clogs, feather boas, and not much else. Now that would be truly terrifying.

* * *

"My Lord!"

Voldemort turned away from the current gathering to look at the hurriedly approaching figure of Peter Pettigrew with a scowl. Honestly, he didn't know why he put up with such an obviously unsuitable minion. However, until such a time came up as to suitably dispose of him, he was forced to put up with the rat's incompetence. After all, loyal followers were slightly difficult to come by.

"What is it that requires you to disturb my peace Wormtail?" He hissed out hatefully, causing Peter to flinch slightly.

"I- I'm sorry my Lord, but you did tell me to keep you informed about the mission." The podgy man fell to the floor, groveling hideously as Voldemort pinned him with a burning stare. There was silence except for Wormtail's sniveling and some muggle girl in the corner who whimpered as her bonds cut into her wrists.

"Well?" Voldemort finally said in an agitated tone, "Are you going to give me a report?"

"I'm sorry my Lord."

"So you've said. Report!"

"Yes my Lord!" Wormtail cried out pitifully, "We… my Lord, we got him."

Voldemort leant backward with a purr of satisfaction. He glanced out over the assembled forces.

"This meeting has been postponed temporarily. We will convene again at this time tomorrow." He paused for a moment before letting out an agitated hissing noise. "Well? Why are you still here?"

The mass disapparated with a crack, leaving only the few prisoners and Wormtail for Voldemort to supervise.

"_Crucio_." He sat down on his throne to plan his next move as he listened contentedly to Wormtail's screams. Abruptly, he ended the spell and walked out of the room, leaving Wormtail to clean himself up and return the prisoners to their cells.

* * *

"We could simply kill him outright." Lucius volunteered, "Salazar knows the brat deserves it."

"Yes, but I do wish for something a little more creative than simple torture, and killing him quickly seems all too kind." Voldemort explained and he and the rest of his inner circle went back to pondering this dilemma. As always, upon being face with such a difficult problem, the Dark Lord had turned to those he trusted most. When his teddy bear Igor had been unable to think of anything halfway decent, he had turned to these buffoons.

"Perhaps if we were to starve him? Leave him weakened and humiliated, surrounded by his own filth." Rudolphus suggested, but the others shook their heads. As horrid as it would be for their newest prisoner, it would not be nearly entertaining enough. Not to mention that the stench would be appalling.

"The boy cares far too much for others. Perhaps if we were to force him to kill other captives, children even, until eventually giving him the option of turning a weapon on himself." Bellatrix offered an idea that was so completely her style that Voldemort had to smirk.

"I think-" He began and they turned to listen, "That we should give the boy to _him._" He smiled again with satisfaction as the others gasped.

"My Lord no!" Lucius cried out, "No one deserves that. The boy's only sixteen!"

"Lucius, you forget yourself." Voldemort hissed acidly, crucioing the blonde as he glared around at the others, "I have made up my mind. The fate of Harry Potter is decided."

* * *

Harry gave a slight groan as he opened his eyes. He looked around at the darkened cell in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened as memories of the previous day came flooding back to him. Sitting bolt upright, he scrambled backward until his back met the wall behind him.

He flicked his gaze back and forth in fear, waiting for the arrival of one of his kidnappers or even the Dark Lord himself. Seconds passed by, then minutes. When nothing happened, he slowly started to pull himself up, wincing as his body screamed in protest. Swaying slightly as he tried to balance without pressuring his newly injured leg, Harry stepped gingerly toward the front of the cell, looking out at the passageway before him.

The corridor was darkened, lit only by flaming torches, placed at intervals along it. Harry could make out the sound of matter dripping from somewhere further along and, had he been in a better situation, would have probably rolled his eyes at the horror movie parallels. Leaning forward, Harry stumbled slightly in surprise as the gate of his small prison swung open against his weight. Now _this_ was unexpected. Harry couldn't help but assume that someone had been foolish enough to trust Wormtail to lock away the Boy-Who-Lived. Honestly. The man was incompetence in human form.

Cautiously, Harry stepped forward out of his cell and looked around. Seeing no-one and not hearing any alarms, he set out limping down the passage, passing many empty cells like his own along the way. For what seemed like hours but was probably no more then ten minutes, Harry continued his journey without seeing a single person, but, just as he finally reached a turn in the corridor, he could hear a distant noise. Straining, Harry tried to pick up what it could be.

It was definitely a voice, male by the sounds of it, although slightly higher then average, but he could not make out what was being said. Continuing towards it, Harry froze in shock. The voice was singing. In the middle of the dungeons of what he suspected was Voldemort's evil head-quarters, someone was singing. In the middle of the evil empire of a dastardly villain, someone felt it was an entirely appropriate place to strike up a tune. Harry wasn't sure what kind of idiot this person could be, but he sure as hell wanted to meet them. Picking up his pace, Harry lurched along the corridor towards the voice, ignoring the pain in his leg. As he came closer he could see a large wooden door with what appeared to be blood stains covering its front. A glow of light came from underneath and the singing, definitely male, seemed to be coming from inside. Suspiciously but eagerly, Harry slowly pushed the door open a crack and looked inside.

"_In a bungalow, all covered with roses; I will settle down I vow. That's why I'm looking at the world through rose coloured glasses an-_ oh hello there, I didn't realise you were awake." The man cried out in delight and beckoned Harry inside, "Oh, come on in dear, don't be shy."

Harry stepped inside and looked at the man in shock as he bustled over.

"_Voldemort_?" He finally gasped out.

"Oh no sugar, I'm his brother." The man corrected with a giggle "Twin in fact and I'm flattered to hear the resemblance is still so strong."

Harry blinked.

He shook himself and then blinked again.

"You're wearing a dress." He finally stated flatly, looking at the short, green, cocktail dress.

"Oh this isn't a dress honey, it's a sequined sensation." Voldemort's twin exclaimed in apparent horror over Harry's misconceptions and then gave a twirl so Harry could understand the definition.

"I ah… see." Harry nodded, still frozen on the spot.

"Oh deary me, it looks like someone's been through the wars." The man said with a tsk-ing noise, indicating Harry's leg and the other cuts and bruises the young man had received, "Now we can't have this anymore can we. Let's get you cleaned up."

The twin lifted the short dress and pulled a wand out of the holster on his upper leg, revealing hairy legs and a garter belt. Giving his wand a wave, he smiled in delight as all Harry's clothes, bar his underwear, disappeared in a flash.

"H-hey!" Harry cried out, trying desperately to cover himself, "Look, I don't know what is going on here, but if you… whatever your name is-"

"Oh please, call me Clover." The man interrupted and ushered Harry into another room where a bath was waiting for him, already steaming, "Now, I'll just fix up these little boo boos," Another spell and Harry's leg felt fine and all the cuts and bruises were gone "And I'll leave you to clean yourself up. I've left some clothes on the stool in the corner." Clover finished and glided elegantly out of the room.

"Supper is in thirty minutes remember so do try not to take to long." He called out, leaving Harry staring at the bathtub.

Unsure of what to do in this rather unexpected situation, Harry stripped off his underwear and climbed into the bath. Scrubbing himself over, Harry examined the places where he had previously felt bruises. They seemed to be completely healed with not a single mark left behind. Grabbing the shampoo, Harry rubbed it in with relish, enjoying the feeling of all that dirt he'd accumulated from his imprisonment washing away. Rinsing, Harry climbed out of the now cloudy bathwater and towelled himself off.

Pulling on his shorts he glanced over at the clothes "Clover" had left for him.

"Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me." He gasped out.

They were (thankfully) male clothes, but Harry wasn't really sure he would consider them such. A tight, flurescent singlet and a pair of floral jean shorts seemed to be all Clover had left for him. Underwear, it appeared, was not going to be an option as his loose, cotton boxers were never going to fit under those... pants? If they could be called that. Harry looked at them in distaste. Obviously, this was not an outfit that Harry -a straight, teenaged boy- would be willing to wear even in the privacy of a small bathroom, let alone in the middle of the Dark Lord's fortress.

This left Harry with a dilemma.

His brain was already pointing out that there were really only three options here. One: put on the outfit. Two: leave it where it was and go out to face Clover in only his boxers. Or three: live in this bathroom for the rest of his life. Since he didn't have any food and wasn't quite sure what would happen if he chose to face Clover unclothed, Harry clutched hold of his famous Gryffindor courage and chose option number one.

"Oh, look at you!" Clover cried out, clapping his hands in excitement as Harry opened the door, "Turn around for me… oh, you _are_ a fine specimen. That cut suits you perfectly don't you think honey?"

"Ah, I don't know?"

"Come now, don't be modest." Clover scolded as he wiped his hands on the white apron he wore before untying it and hurrying over to escort Harry to the table, "You look stunning. Now, let's eat shall we? You need some meat on those bones. Look at your little chicken legs!"

Looking at the wonderful meal before him and rationalising that poison was probably not a kindness likely to be afforded to him; Harry began eating. The food was exquisite, practically orgasmic as Clover commented, obviously not one to belittle his own cooking talents. When they had finished Harry roughly wiped his mouth with the white napkin he'd been presented, earning a pout from Clover at his rudeness.

"Listen Clover…" Harry looked at the man who raised an eyebrow with a smile, "Could you please tell me what's going on here? You see, this isn't really something I expected would happen when I imagined being kidnapped by a Dark Lord."

"Oh yes. Tommy says you've been rather naughty, ruining all his plans." Clover looked at him with a frown, "Once he'd had you kidnapped, he couldn't quite figure out what to do with you, so he decided to send you down here to live with me. Provided you don't do anything foolish, you're free to roam this level of the dungeons. All exits are blocked; a house-elf comes by with supplies on Tuesdays and Fridays. There are no other people on this level, so it's just us!" Clover looked thrilled, "Now, I'll teach you how to behave properly and if you follow all my rules, we should have a delightful time together. We can be bunk buddies!"

Harry sat stricken in his seat for a moment, processing this announcement.

"Oh sweet Jesus." He finally whispered.

"Now, now, don't blaspheme, it's unbecoming of a young hero. I realise this is a little unsettling for you but I am _sure_ you'll get used to it." Clover looked at him with a cheerful smile before getting up again, "Now, I think it's high time we went to bed, young man."

"Wait. Clover." Harry looked up at his new flatmate, "I… I'm straight okay? I'm not going to do… _anything_ with you so-"

"Oh silly. I'm not going to try anything. I'm entitled to admire a fine art work aren't I? No, no, you've got your own bedroom that you can lock up as tight as you like." " Harry almost collapsed in relief, "No, my entertainment will come from teaching you to behave nicely. I must say, Harry you do lack any sense of _presence_. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of icon? I mean goodness, has no one ever taught you how to walk nicely? Where's the saunter? Where's the _pizzazz_? Never mind, that's a discussion for another day. Now off to bed with you."

Clover led him to a side suite, just opposite his own. Inside was a large bedroom with a four post bed, a large dresser, a built in robe, and a desk. To one side Harry could see a bathroom with marble fittings and a large tub.

"Goodnight, Harry," Clover smiled "Don't worry, dear, you'll get used to all this soon enough. I hardly even miss the outside world these days."

Exhausted already, Harry made his way across to the bed, pulling off the shirt and wriggling out of the shorts as he went. Tugging on the pyjamas he found folded in front of him, Harry crawled into bed. As he drifted off, Harry couldn't help but wonder why Dudley's "Worst Case Scenario: Survival Handbook" hadn't included a section on what to do when kidnapped and held in a gloomy dungeon in the care of an insane transvestite.

* * *

Three weeks later, Harry was in the middle of yet another never ending posture lesson. Time in his own private hell of a finishing school seemed to slow to a crawl. Only his humiliation kept him from completely giving in to the mind numbing boredom he faced. Trying to focus of the outside world didn't help him in the slightest. His girlfriend, Ginny, was still a fond memory, but his thoughts on her were now tainted by mortification.

"Back straighter, Harry!" Clover snapped, aiming a mild stinging curse at Harry's side. "If even one of those books falls off your head, we're going to have to start all over again, you naughty boy."

Harry bit his lip to hold in a reply and concentrated on the heavy weight on his head. He was already an hour and a half into this session and by god he wasn't going to start over now. Memories of the fourteen hour session on his second day here still haunted his nightmares.

"Honestly, sugar I don't know why you're not enjoying this," Clover pouted. "Don't you know what we're trying to achieve here? We're going to make you into the perfect little gentleman. You'll be my little dandy when I finish with you. Oh, just wait til I get you in ball gowns."

"What? No!" Harry leapt backwards, the books crashing loudly to the floor, forgotten. "No way, Clover! I've done everything you've asked of me so far you lunatic but I draw the line at dresses!"

Harry was shouting now, one hand on his hip and the other pointing wildly at Clover.

"I'm a boy, okay? And you're a man, in case you've somehow forgotten. It's not okay for Tom to just leave me here and not fight me and make fun of me and, and, and... it's just not fair!" Harry stomped his foot in frustration.

There was silence for a moment and Clover held his hands to his mouth.

"Oh, oh Harry," He gasped.

"What?" Harry asked warily.

"Oh sugar, I'm so proud," Clover fanned himself. "Do you see what I've achieved? Look at you, darling! You're flouncing, you're pouting, this is progress, darling, progress of the sweetest kind! You're letting your diva out, Harry darling. And doesn't it feel refreshing?"

Harry stared at him in horror.

"Oh god, it did."

* * *

Clover was of course, completely correct. Harry did get used to living in the dungeons. While he still occasionally wondered what was going on in the outside world; after a few months he stopped caring about the war and Voldemort and Ginny and even Dumbledore. While he still regularly made escape attempts that were always well punished, somewhere along the way, in order to survive, the rational side of his mind had completely switched off. His life was now consumed by dress shoes and party frocks and perfectly manicured nails.

Thus, he was completely surprised when one day about five months into his stay; he and Clover received a visitor.

Harry had been sitting at the desk in his quarters; carefully painting his nails with the pale pink Clover had given him to try. He held his hand up elegantly into the light to see if it was dry yet and, satisfied that it was, picked up what Clover promised had always been his favourite romance novel and began reading. After only a few pages, Harry heard a call from Clover in the other room. Looking at the clock, he frowned in confusion. It was only eleven fifteen. Lunch wasn't for another hour or so. What could Clover possible want?

Slipping his feet daintily into his bunny slippers, Harry shuffled out into the living room, keeping his book tucked under one arm. Looking around for Clover, Harry gave a gasp, laying his hand across his heart in surprise and allowing the book to slip to the floor.

"Harry darling, this is Draco Malfoy." Clover introduced with a wave, "His dear papa sent him here to learn some lessons in etiquette. Oh won't we all have fun together, hmm?"

* * *

Yeah, I'm nuts. That's been well established. But hey, my particular brand of nuttiness seems to appeal to some of you, so review if you've got an opinion on this. Written as a oneshot, but I might write another one or two about Clover and Harry's adventures on day.


End file.
